The Golden Cat: The Jameson Stories Part 1
by blackraven72
Summary: Kate Jameson, a young lady of society, decides to help a newsie one night when he's beaten up on her street. He gives her a note with the lodging house address on it, and tells her that if she ever needs help, she should call in the favor. Three years later, with a vicious crime gang chasing her for unknown purposes, she does. CHAPTER 1 EDITED FOR CONTINUITY ERROR.
1. Prologue

Prologue- June 1896

It was the screams that woke her up.

Kate Jameson, a thirteen year-old girl and heir to the Jameson fortune, was rudely awakened by screams that were only muffled by her floor-to ceiling glass windows with white borders. She didn't quite know what to think at first. No one ever screamed on her street at this time of night.

She could make out some words too, and they weren't nice ones, but the thing that propelled her to look out the window was a high pitched shriek. 'If someone's in trouble, I should call the police,' she thought.

She leapt nimbly out of bed and quietly parted the thin white curtains that protected her from the rest of the world. What she saw shocked her.

The street lamps turned the two older boys into silhouettes, but Kate would have recognized the DeLanceys' distinctive hats anywhere. The two boorish boys were both beating on a third boy, who Kate didn't recognize. The boy was whimpering on the ground while one DeLancey brother tauntingly waved a stick at him, and suddenly Kate realized that even if she phoned the police, it might be too late for the boy, so she did something that no good society lady should ever do; she ran outside in her nightgown and tried to stop it herself.

At first, Crutchy thought that the girl must be an angel.

He'd been having a pretty rough day to begin with. The morning edition's headlines weren't very good, and the evening edition wasn't much better. He'd never been very good at "improving the truth" like his friend Jack, so it'd taken him a long time to finish. He knew that the sidestreets weren't a good place to be at night; he'd tried to take a well-lit route home to be safe, but it hadn't protected him from the DeLanceys.

As soon as they'd seen him, they'd jumped him, and Crutchy knew he was dead. Oscar knocked him to the ground, and the jab was so sudden that he let go of his crutch. Morris had grabbed it in the confusion and waved it tauntingly above Crutchy's head until a girl's voice cried, "Oscar? Morris? What do you think you're doing?!"

Morris dropped the crutch immediately, and Crutchy scrambled for it before either of those two goons could pick it up again.

"We're terribly sorry, Miss Jameson," Oscar simpered, almost like he was trying to kiss up to her, Crutchy thought, though he didn't know why.

"We were just trying to keep this hooligan away from the good homes of this neighborhood," Morris added, in the same tone, snatching Crutchy's crutch before he could grab it.

"You call this boy a hooligan?" the girl, Miss Jameson, asked. "He doesn't look like a threat at all. Why were you beating him?"

The DeLanceys decided to run instead of answering the question, probably to save any pride they had left, Crutchy imagined. He saw white in his peripheral vision as the girl came closer.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'se is fine, miss," Crutchy responded with a small smile, even though it hurt to smile at this moment.

"You don't look fine. Would you like to stay with me for the night?" She then turned red, realizing the less pure way her words could have been taken, "I mean, you can stay on the couch in my room. I have a bathtub, too, if you'd like to wash off all of that dirt, and…"

Normally, Crutchy had too much pride, and street smarts, to accept help from strangers. He preferred to do things on his own, and not be a bother to other people. But a pretty girl, a hot bath and a soft bed! How could he refuse?

"All right," he caved, "I'll come witcha. But only for tahnight, undahstand?"

"Of course," she replied. "Come on. We'll have to be quiet, but the maids sleep like rocks, so I think we'll be all right."

Kate was nervous, and she had every right to be. She was bringing a _boy_ into her house! He didn't look like he was of high social standing either. He just looked like he needed help, and Kate was willing to give him that.

"Can you walk?" she asked him.

"Not witout my crutch. Da DeLanceys still got it," he grumbled. He hated being without his crutch. It made him feel helpless, and he didn't like to feel helpless in front of anyone, especially a girl.

"Well then, I'll have to help you up," she said confidently, holding out her arm. Inside, she was terrified. Ever since she was little, Kate had had an irrational fear of germs and dirt, and it appeared to her that that particular fear wasn't going away anytime soon. However, if Kate knew how to do anything, it was to put on a confident façade for the rest of the world, so she refused to let the boy see her slight shivers at the thought of putting a dirty sleeve on top of her snow white nightgown. She also thought that any rude comments on dirt might offend him.

Crutchy hesitantly grabbed Kate's hand, and she helped him to his feet while he slung his left arm over her shoulders. Kate tried not to think about the fact that she would have to answer to the maids when they found the streaks of dirt that were sure to be on her nightgown the next morning, and instead focused on helping the strange, but kind, newsboy into her house. It took her longer than she would have liked to open her front door using her right hand, but the duo managed to pull themselves inside with a bit of effort.

"Okay," she said, glancing at the wide staircase to her left that led to her bedroom, "we're going to have to get up those stairs, so we'll go up slowly and carefully, okay?"

"All right," the boy responded bravely, and Kate was actually impressed that he was still able to put on a brave face after all that he'd been through in the past hour. She also hoped that she'd be brave enough to answer for the dirt stains on the beige, carpeted stairway as she held onto the rail for balance.

It took them what felt like an eternity, but the kids soon made it up the stairs. Kate released her death grip on the metal bannister and walked the still unknown boy to her room.

"All right," she said as she opened the door, letting them both inside before closing it, "you need a bath. My father told me that a hot bath helps relax muscles, so that's what you're going to do."

"Ya don't have ta help me any moah," he said proudly, left hand on the wall, "I can walk from heah ta the bath by meself."

"Are you sure?" she asked. She didn't want him falling after all of this.

"Yes'm, Ise is sure," he responded.

"All right, as long as you're careful…" Normally, this was where she would say someone's name, but since the boy had never given her one, Kate didn't know what to do.

"Crutchy," the boy responded, "Dat's my newsie name. My real name is Andrew, but don't you dare tell nobody."

"My name is Katherine Marie Antoinette Jameson. Call me Kate. It's nice to meet you Andrew, or do you prefer Crutchy?"

"Crutchy's what my pals call me, so you're definitely welcome ta use it, Miss Kate."

"The Miss is unnecessary, and why am I talking with you about this when you need to get in the bath? Go on, shoo!" she shooed jokingly, as he muttered, "awright, awrighty," and hobbled into the bathroom.

Not even a minute later, he whisper-shouted, "Hey Kate? How do ya turn dis thing on?" as he gestured to the bathtub.

"And you said you didn't need my help," she smugly replied in the same volume as she turned the knob for hot water.

"Dat was befoah I saw ten of da same lookin' knobs in front of me, and I didn't know which one was the 'on' switch."

"They're all different, see? You just have to look at the controls. This one," she gestured, "adjusts temperature, and this one," she pointed to one on the far right, "makes the water bubble, but it makes a lot of noise, so we shouldn't use it."

"Okay," Crutchy replied sadly.

"This one in the middle turns the drain on, and the one right next to it turns the drain off. Those are the only knobs you need to know. Turn off the knob that I just turned when you want to stop the hot water, and I don't know why you would do this, but turn the one right next to the hot water if you want cold water. The bath soaps are in the drawer on the bottom left. Can you handle the rest?"

"Yeah, Ise think I can," Crutchy said hesitantly.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it. Have a nice bath! You deserve it for all the trouble that the DeLanceys put you through." With that, Kate left Crutchy to his own devices, and went to sleep.

The next morning, the sunlight woke Kate up, and the first thing she did after checking the time (9:00 AM) was check on her temporary roommate's condition. She hoped nothing had happened to him while she was asleep. If something had, she wouldn't have taken it well. Nothing bad had happened, but the boy was gone. She checked the bathroom, and all the water had been drained out of the tub, leaving a heap of grime, which, with the help of a few buckets of cold water from the sink, Kate was able to drain out herself. In the back of her mind, she wondered what the boy had used as a crutch in order to get outside. He'd proven that he could use the wall, and there was a stair rail from her room to the main foyer, but he'd had to walk outside somehow.

She quietly slipped down the stairs to where her father kept his walking sticks. It was then that she noticed that there was a half- used roll of tape on the table, and that two of her father's walking sticks were missing. There was a knife just to the left of the tape, and she could now see wood shavings on the floor. After quickly running to get the dust pan and brushing the shavings off of the floor, Kate raced back up to her room, and there was a note waiting on the desk that she hadn't noticed as she'd run about the house.

 _Miss Kate,_

 _Thank you so much for all of your help last night. You didn't have to do it, but you did anyway, and I honestly don't know how to repay you. The only way I can think of is if you ever need help with anything, go to 212 Duane Street. That's where I live. It's a newsboy lodging house, but I don't think you'll care. If you ever need me, for anything, come to the lodging house and I will try to help you any way that I can._

 _-Crutchy_

Kate smiled as she tucked the note away in a secret drawer, only accessible with a hidden key which she wore around her neck. She didn't think she'd ever need to use this pass that she'd just been given, but she'd treasure it all the same. After all, in an emergency, it never hurts to be prepared.

She refocused her attention on the bathroom. The bath soaps were all over the place, and she sighed. She had a lot of work in front of her.


	2. A Daring Escape

Chapter 1: Three Years Later- August 1899

"Miss Jameson?" a maid asked as she knocked on the door. When she got no response, she repeated her question at a louder tone. When she still failed to receive an answer, she used her own key to unlock the door and entered the room to find a still-sleeping sixteen year-old girl.

"Miss Jameson," the woman repeated, "it's time to get up! You mustn't be late for your caller this afternoon!"

The girl groaned and rolled over onto her side.

The maid was really starting to become fed up with her charge's behavior, so she walked into the bathroom and filled up a bucket with cold water from the marble sink. She hated this method, but it was effective.

"Time to get up!" the maid said forcefully, but she knew the girl had a sixth sense when it came to being forcefully awakened, and her charge finally shot out of bed.

"No need for the bucket, Miss Hutchins!" Kate exclaimed, almost playfully, "I am perfectly capable of waking myself!"

Miss Hutchins put the bucket down. "Couldn't you have awoken yourself before eight o'clock in the morning?"

"No," she responded simply. "I was up late last night reading."

"Of course you were," the maid smiled softly, "You do love to read, don't you?"

"You've known that about me since I was small," the girl stated, "Why Miss Hutchins, are you getting sentimental?"

"Perhaps I am, in my old age," she joked. Miss Hutchins was only forty, so she could hardly be considered terribly old. "And I have good reason to. You have a fine young gentleman coming to visit you this afternoon, and as you know, when a young woman turns sixteen…"

"She is eligible for courting," Kate finished.

"Exactly. Oh, I can't wait to see you in a wedding dress! You'll make a lovely bride, Kate." Miss Hutchins was the only maid who called her Kate. Every other maid called her Miss Jameson, and while Kate wasn't sure why Miss Hutchins could be this informal with her without fear of retribution, she appreciated it.

"The thing is," Kate flopped onto her desk chair, "I don't want to get married just yet. Before I do, I want to have an adventure. Not anything too frightening, but just some fond memories before I become a prisoner in someone else's home."

"Now Kate, isn't that a rather dark way to think about marriage? You'll be in a lovely home, with a handsome husband, and children…"

"Miss Hutchins!" Kate exclaimed, blushing, "I'm not ready for children! I'm only sixteen."

"And you still have a few more years until you're expected to be married, so there is plenty of time for adventure."

"What if I don't want to get married?" Kate sulked.

"You will be," Miss Hutchins smiled, "You're simply too beautiful to be an old maid at eighteen. Some young man will just want to sweep you off your feet, and hopefully your father will approve of him, and…"

"So I don't have a choice in the matter," Kate stated.

"I'm afraid you don't have much of one, dear," Miss Hutchins sighed, "I wish, for your sake, that things could be different, but we simply have to deal with things as they are right now."

"If that's the case, then you're going to have to help me get dressed. Is the green one appropriate for today?"

"The green one is _perfect_ for today," Miss Hutchins grinned as she pulled a light green day dress out of the closet, "It brings out your beautiful green eyes."

Kate descended the staircase in the light green dress and a fashionable sunbonnet with a dark green ribbon. As usual, her father had to leave early for work, so she had a quick breakfast of fruit and honeyed porridge alone. Her brown hair still fell down her back in loose waves, and while she loved the way it looked, a woman who wore her hair down was often perceived as unfashionable, or worse, a lady of the night, so Kate knew that she had to put it up at some point. After breakfast, she enlisted the help of another maid to do just that, and her hair was pinned in a tight bun with some artful strands framing her face (but not too many, of course).

By noontime, Kate had finished another small meal of fruit and a turkey sandwich (if her caller took her out for a meal, she wanted to be hungry enough for it, but if he didn't, she wanted to be prepared), and sat in the library reading a book of fairy tales. She knew that these stories were read to children to inspire obedience through fear, but they were also excellent stories for older readers. Whenever she was bored, Kate liked to think up happier versions of these tales, which she planned to tell her own children when the time came. She had never believed in scaring or harming children. To Kate, it was one of the cruelest things a person could do.

She often wrote her revisions down on paper while she was reading them, and while she was making another alteration to "The Little Mermaid" (she was about ready to give up on this one because unless she wanted to change the whole fairy tale, she couldn't mess with the ditzy heroine's disposition), the doorbell rang. It would go against protocol to have a maid answer it, so Kate shot off of the couch, and hurried to the door.

"Good afternoon, Mr. DeLancey," she greeted politely, trying to get rid of the knot in her stomach. Ever since the night three years prior, she had never liked Oscar DeLancey or his brother Morris much at all. She saw them as boorish pigs who were trying to sleaze their way into the upper ranks of society. Thankfully, she almost never had to see them except at large winter parties, because they were simply too busy with whatever they did at the World newspaper to court women or meet the right people.

"Good afternoon, Miss Jameson," Oscar smiled back. Kate could smell the smoke on his teeth, but other than that, she had to admit that he'd done a good job cleaning himself up. His suit was nicely pressed, his hat was fashionable, and his shoes were polished. He was also trying to hide his lower-class dialect, and he wasn't doing a terrible job of it. Even though she had no interest in him, Kate acknowledged the effort.

"Unfortunately, my father isn't home at the moment," she stated, "Is there anything else you need from us? Would you like some lunch?" She knew that she was being slightly impolite by rushing the conversation, but she wanted him out of her house, and out of her sight, as soon as possible.

"Actually, I've come to take you out on a tour of New York," he smiled softly, attempting to be a gentleman. However, Kate saw through the false politeness in a heartbeat, and knew that the smile wasn't his real one. She'd seen his real smile three years before, and knew that it was feral; Kate had only seen it when he was beating up Crutchy, the newsboy who she'd had to save from him.

"Really?" she replied, trying to widen her eyes to pretend she was interested. She knew she'd have to accept anyway, because if she didn't, it would be improper. "I'd love to." She never thought it would be so difficult to choke out three words, but it was. If lying was something that Kate would have to get used to as a society lady, she knew she'd hate it.

"Excellent!" Oscar grinned, and Kate noted that this was his first misstep in etiquette. Men were not supposed to raise their voices that loudly to a woman. They were supposed to be gentler. She also noticed that his smile was now more like his real one, which sent unpleasant shivers down her spine.

Oscar guided her to his carriage, and, not for the first time in the past five minutes, Kate wished her father was there or that he knew about this outing. He never bothered to check the calling cards, and he always had to leave for work quite early, so he never had time to leaf through the cards anyway. Kate was sure that if he knew what a cruel man Oscar DeLancey could be, he would have found a way to get her out of the horrible predicament that was being in a carriage with Oscar, but he couldn't help her now.

The first thing that surprised Kate was that there was no driver for the carriage, but that question was soon answered when Oscar grabbed the reins and smacked the horses (a bit too harshly in Kate's opinion) with the whip that had been left in the seat. Kate knew that when the man decided to drive, it was proper for the lady to be right by his side, and Oscar obligingly made room for her on the small bench. Disgusted, but willing to go through the motions, Kate took the offered space.

They sat in silence for a few minutes because Oscar didn't seem to know what to say and Kate refused to initiate a conversation with a man she loathed; she hoped the silence would pressure him to end the outing quickly. Unfortunately, this tactic didn't work, and Oscar continued to drive.

Kate was surprised again when Oscar made a sharp turn to the left. Normally, men who were trying to court New York's wealthiest young women would take them for a carriage ride in Central Park, but clearly Oscar had other ideas. Kate was tempted to remind him of the proper path to take to the Park, but she knew that it would be disrespectful, so she refrained from saying anything.

As the carriage rolled on, Kate saw that the quality of life was decreasing. Instead of rolling past mansions and wealthy apartments, Kate could smell the stench of the sewers and hear the cries of beggars. One old woman gripped the side of their carriage begging them for money. Instead of simply ignoring her or trying to shoo her away, Oscar took the whip and cracked it over the woman's arm. The woman cried out in pain, and Oscar smiled. This time, it was his true smile, and Kate started to feel very afraid.

"Where are we going?" Kate asked, because she was starting to feel incredibly unsafe, and damn it all, she wanted to know.

"Someplace nice," Oscar responded, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

"I'm not sure anyplace around here could be nice," The words tumbled shakily out of Kate's mouth before she had the chance to truly think about what she was saying. When she saw the look on Oscar's face, she immediately wished that she hadn't said anything.

He snarled at her, and he gripped the horses' reins tightly with his left hand while grabbing the whip in his right. Thinking he was going to strike her, Kate instinctively jumped out of the carriage.

She tried to land on her feet, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. Instead, she fell almost face first into the middle of the street, and when she tried to stand up, she felt a lot of pain in her right ankle. She was able to walk herself to the side of the street, and then, once she'd found a wall, was able to lean against it and walk. She knew that someplace around here, there was a place where she'd be safe from Oscar; she just had to remember where it was, but first, she had to evade him.

Once the carriage was out of sight, she slipped down a side street as quickly as she could. She got jeers from everyone on that road, regardless of gender. Younger thieves tried to snatch at her dress, and they managed to rip parts of her lower skirts off. Kate was almost grateful that they had; it made it easier for her to walk. A man attempted to wrestle her into a narrow alleyway, and she was able to smell beer on his breath for a moment, until another man jerked him away from her. She then tried to run as fast as possible away from that place, and she succeeded (her foot was in agony, but that was a small price to pay), but she felt incredibly embarrassed to be walking around in public looking like a tramp. Thankfully, none of the people that she had just met knew who she truly was. They never showed the faces of society people in the papers; only the names.

Kate remembered that Crutchy was a newsboy, so she figured that another newsboy would be able to tell her where to find the lodging house. Now the only trouble for her was finding one. She noticed a statue near where she was, and she recognized it. Horace Greeley was a newspaper tycoon many years ago, and she knew that the headquarters of the World newspaper were not far from the statue; she assumed she'd be able to quickly find a newsboy there who could help her.

She quickly spotted a boy younger than herself selling newspapers in front of the statue and walked over to him. She knew she must have made quite the sight to all of the passersby on Greeley Square, but at the moment, she knew that she was one step away from sanctuary, so she, for the first time in the last half hour, forgot to care.

"Excuse me," Kate tapped the curly-haired boy on the shoulder, "where might I find the lodging house?"

"That depends," the boy smirked, "who wants to know?"

Normally, Kate had an unlimited amount of patience (in order to sit through long dinners filled with mindless conversation, it was practically a required skill), but she had already had enough of this young boy's attitude.

"Someone who is trying to run from Oscar DeLancey," Kate hissed, and then threw in for good measure, "and someone who one of your own owes a large favor."

She was almost surprised at how quickly the boy's demeanor changed when she mentioned Oscar's name. It looked like she wasn't the only one in New York who was terrified of him.

"Awright, awright, no need to scare me, I'll take ya," he replied, "but you gotta let me finish selling dese last papes first."

"What's your name?" she asked, trying to be casual but polite.

"Snipeshooter," he grinned back, and leered at her now bare legs, "what's yours?"

"Now, Snipeshooter," Kate responded, "how would you feel if someone leered at _your_ legs like that?"

Snipeshooter decided that it would be an excellent time to finish selling his papers, and showed Kate a corner of Greeley Square where she could hide while he finished. Thankfully, nothing eventful happened while the newsboy was selling, and when he came to pick her up, Kate was starting to feel relieved.

"All right, seriously, doll," Snipeshooter drawled as the two of them headed towards the lodging house, "what's your name and who owes ya? I'm gonna have ta know who ta talk to so that dey can help ya."

"My name is Kate," she responded, figuring only her first name would be enough to satiate his curiosity, "and I know a boy named Andrew, but you might know him as Crutchy."

"If youse know Crutchy," Snipeshooter said as he pulled a cigar out of his pocket, "and Ise bet dat ya do cause ya know his real name, den you picked a good place ta hide from Oscar."

"I'm glad," Kate smiled.

"Ya know, you seem too classy ta be a common broad. Who are youse, really?"

"That's not important right now," Kate replied, eyes fixed firmly on the road, "My foot is injured and I need a safe place to lay low for a bit. That's all you need to know."

"Okay," Snipeshooter shrugged in surrender, "I get it. Ya don't wanna talk ta people you don't trust."

"You didn't exactly give an outstanding first impression," she remarked.

"Awright, I get it. You're still mad about the legs thing."

"What woman wouldn't be?" she asked.

"A broad," was the only response she got from him.

"You seem too young to know much about these 'broads'. How old are you, again?"

"I'm twelve, thirteen in two days, and I learned about broads from some of the olda boys. Dey've taught me all about 'em," he said, almost proudly.

"Have they taught you how to treat a lady?" she pressed on.

"Well, we tip our hats to 'em, but that's about it. We don't get many people like youse around dese parts."

"So you _don't_ know how to treat a woman with respect besides tipping your hat."

"Dey haven't taught me yet," he shrugged.

"If I'm here for a stretch of time, I can teach you," she offered.

"Well, we're here," Snipeshooter announced, appearing to disregard her offer. "Welcome to da Newsboy Lodging House. Da boys'll be in in a few minutes."

He walked in the door and greeted an old man who Kate learned was named Kloppman, and she quickly explained her predicament to him after Snipeshooter assured her that he was trustworthy. Kate almost didn't need the younger boy's input. Kloppman looked like the sort of elderly gentleman who would help anyone in need, and keep whatever secrets needed to be kept.

"Miss Kate," he said, "I assume that you would not like to stay in the boys' bunkroom, so I have a room for you in the attic. It's a bit small, especially for someone of your status, but it will keep you hidden for a couple of days."

"Right now, Mr. Kloppman," Kate replied, "I could care less about comforts. I simply want to be safe."

He nodded calmly, and gave her the key to the attic room. She asked where the boys' bunks were, for reference, and he pointed out the doorway to their large space on the second floor. Kate made sure to thank Kloppman for his kindness, and once he'd turned his back, she went up the stairs and turned the key to her room.

Kloppman was right; the room was small, but Kate thought that the wooden floors, walls, and roof were comforting in their own way. It certainly wasn't like anything she was used to. She tested the sinks in the bathroom and found that there was running water, but only a trickle, and she dared not touch it for fear of whatever strange germs were probably running through it. The ceiling in her room looked like it had been exposed to the elements one too many times, and she was concerned that it might collapse. She vowed that if she could manage to evade Oscar and get home soon, she would donate a large sum to the lodging house for renovations.

The events of the day had taken a toll on Kate, and she watched the sun begin to set out of her narrow window. Since she didn't have any extra clothes, she simply laid down on the mattress and quickly realized something: her bed didn't have any sheets. Kate knew where she'd need to get them from, and so, shocking herself with her own boldness, she slipped down the stairs to the boys' bunks to see if there was an open bunk with sheets that she could "borrow".


	3. The (Inadvertent) Sheet Thief

**Sorry this was so late guys; I've just been busy with real life stuff. Thank you all so much for your reviews and follows. I appreciate everyone's support! Thank you all for your patience, and here's the next chapter! Maybe I'll even get you all another chapter before the week is up!**

Chapter 3

In order to know which bunk it would be acceptable to "borrow" (Kate didn't like to call it stealing because she had been told from a very young age that stealing was wrong, and besides, after she felt safe enough to go home, she'd put the sheets back), Kate knew she would have to ask Snipeshooter. Said boy was inspecting his face closely in the mirror when Kate came down, and, not expecting company, was startled when Kate called his name.

"Whaddaya want?" he shot back, almost dropping the razor he had started to grab. "This better be important, yah just gave me a heart attack!"

"I need to know which bunk I can take some sheets from. I wouldn't want to trouble anyone else's sleep."

Snipeshooter was surprised that she was being considerate to boys who she hadn't even met. He was expecting someone from a high-class background to be rude and intimidating towards people like him. This girl didn't seem like much of a threat, except when she'd caught him staring at her legs (he still didn't think he'd done anything wrong).

"You can take 'em from this bunk." He gestured to a bunk in the back right corner. Kloppman always made the beds after the boys left, so Snipeshooter knew that Kate would never know if someone slept there at night or not. This bunk just so happened to belong to one of his pals who had, once again, irked him because he wouldn't give him a cigar ("'cause you're still a twerp"). Snipeshooter thought that this would be a perfect time to get even.

Without even questioning it, Kate stripped the bed of everything save for the mattress, and Snipeshooter tried his best to keep a straight face. He only allowed himself to laugh once he heard Kate's feet on the stairs.

Kate could have sworn that she heard laughter when she started climbing the stairs, but she was too tired to really question it. For all she knew, no one had actually laughed and it was simply a product of her overactive imagination. Besides, she thought, Snipeshooter would never truly harm her. He was rude, but not menacing by any stretch of the imagination.

She'd never made a bed in her life before, but thankfully, it was not that difficult of a task. At first, she mixed up the order of the sheets before she realized that the sheet that was thinner actually covered the mattress, and the thicker, more widespread sheet was meant to go on top of it. However, she eventually noticed that it didn't feel right when she sat on the bed, and reversed the two. She placed the second pillow next to the first one on her bed, and when she was finished, she decided the bed looked messy, but functional.

Kate had just finished putting the second pillow on the bed when she heard a lot of shouting coming from downstairs. Thinking that the shouting had something to do with her being there, Kate decided that she'd better explain her situation before, heavens forbid, Snipeshooter decided to do it for her, so she hurried down the stairs and into the boys' room (shocking herself with her own brazenness once again).

The sight she found would have amused her if she was simply an onlooker in the situation. However, in this case, Kate quickly figured out that she was inadvertently the perpetrator of the shouting from before.

A short Italian boy who looked about her age was screaming furiously at Snipeshooter and pointing to the bunk that Kate had stripped of its sheets. Snipeshooter had his hands raised in surrender. As soon as Kate walked in the room, the younger boy said, "There's the sheet thief, Race! I told youse that I didn't do it! She just came in here an' took the sheets off o' your bed for her room in the attic!"

The boy's murderous glare was soon fixed on her, and Kate realized that he was about as tall as she was, which surprised her somewhat, but it was soon made clear to her that whatever he lacked in height, he made up for in personality. She could feel the rage coming off of him in waves, and she almost wanted to apologize for her actions, but she also wasn't going to give up her new sheets without a fight. He'd get them back before long anyway.

"Snipeshooter told me that it was acceptable for me to take sheets from your bunk, so I did. He never mentioned that the bunk belonged to anyone, so I, naturally, brought the sheets up to my room in the attic. It won't be for very long at all; I'll return them tomorrow or the day after next when I return home." she told him in her most neutral, diplomatic tone that usually worked whenever she was trying to defuse an argument. However, in this case, she actually failed.

"An' where is home, sweetheart?" he asked as his eyes raked over her figure. For some reason, this small up-and-down was even more uncomfortable than Snipeshooter's blatant leering, and she assumed then that the younger boy had learned how to treat women from him. "The brothel? The way that dress looks, I wouldn' be surprised."

This crude remark sent waves of laughter throughout the lodging house, and for the first time in her life, Kate felt well and truly humiliated. She felt her face redden as the boy asked another question, "Who are youse, and why are youse here? Unless, of course, you're offering your _services_ , in which case I, for one, am more than happy to pay." Another round of laughter spread through the lodging house.

 _Ugh_ , Kate thought, _this boy is disgusting_. Unfortunately for her, however, he seemed to have a lot of respect amongst the boys in the lodging house. Maybe, she thought, if she answered this question truthfully, she might gain some respect too. After all, she assumed, who wouldn't want to help somebody of stature?

"My name is Katherine Jameson," she said, holding her head up with as much dignity as she could muster, "I am the daughter of Frederick Jameson, head of the Jameson Law Firm. I was pursued by Oscar DeLancey earlier today, and I needed a place to stay in order to hide…"

"See fellas, she ain't a whore," Race spread out his arms and turned to face his friends, "She's a scab. I almost don't know which is worse."

Kate now wished that she'd been perceived as a whore. Everyone's eyes darkened with pure rage, and she heard various insults like, "Why don't you run home to Mommy, wittle scabby?" or just, "Scab!" along with various versions of, "Get outta here!"

She was at her breaking point. She had lost any respectability she had, was completely alone, possibly being hunted, and the one place that she thought might save her had turned into her own personal hell. She figured that jumping out of the attic window might be the only thing that could save her now.

Suddenly, she heard a voice at the door. It was incredibly faint, and it had gotten deeper, but Kate recognized the voice from many years ago, when she had saved its owner from the DeLanceys.

"Hey fellas!" the boy exclaimed cheerfully as he walked in the door, leaning heavily on his crutch. "What's all the ruckus abou-Miss Kate? Hey, what's goin' on here?"

For the first time all day, Kate started to smile.

"It's good to see you, Crutchy," she replied, "I know it's been a long time, but I intend to use the favor that you gave me all those years ago."


	4. Corsets Are Nasty Things

Chapter 4

To Kate's delight, Race and the other boys looked incredibly embarrassed by their earlier actions as soon as Crutchy had walked through the door and treated Kate like a friend. They awkwardly shuffled their feet and hung their heads in silence.

"What just happened?" Crutchy asked.

Kate figured this was a perfect time to get some minor diplomatic revenge on her previous tormentors. "Well," she said, "just before you arrived, they called me a whore and a scab, whatever a scab is. I was trying to explain my predicament, but they just wouldn't listen."

Race's face turned into a scowl, "You didn't explain nothin', but you stole my sheets for your own bed in the attic! Didn't youse think t'ask one of us if a bunk was empty?"

"Actually, I _did_ ask Snipeshooter," Kate responded, her pride beginning to return. She was beginning to realize that being Crutchy's friend in the lodging house was similar to being Mayor Roosevelt's friend in high society. "I didn't want to be any trouble; I just needed some sheets for the mattress up there. He told me it was acceptable to take from the corner bunk, and so I did. If you want to blame someone, blame him, but don't hurt him. He did bring me here when I needed help.''

Snipeshooter smirked, "See Race, you can't hurt me. The lady's just said so."

Race snorted, and Kate could almost visualize steam coming out of his nostrils.

"Can I have one of your cigars now? Kate, tell him to give me a cigar."

Kate was stunned that Snipeshooter was calling her by a shortened version of her name even though he'd barely met her two hours ago, but she assumed that that was simply what was done in lower social classes than her own, so she let it go. If she was going to be living with people from a different group, even though it was only temporary, it would be she who would have to acclimate to their rules.

"I think not," Kate replied. "Smoking is disgusting and I'd hate for you to get wrapped up in that terrible habit like your friend here clearly is."

Race smirked for a second before frowning. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Are you saying I'm terrible?"

"To be perfectly honest, you're not making a very good first impression," Kate smirked. "First, you call me a whore, then a scab, whatever that is, and now I find out that you smoke."

"What's so bad about smokin'?" he questioned, as his friends started to chuckle. Kate guessed that this boy was not used to being on the losing side of an argument, and truth be told, she was starting to enjoy slinging words back and forth with him now that she was pretty sure he wouldn't actually hurt her. "Also, a scab is what we call rich people. They don't treat us too good most of the time, so we call 'em scabs cause we can't pick em off, and they never go away."

"Oh," Kate replied, "Well, I would rather not be grouped in with that lot as long as I'm in need of your sanctuary, and, to answer your latter question, smoking is bad because of the horrible things it does to one's body. I've seen people's teeth yellow out, and their breath smells awful. Also, I've had many conversations with gentlemen cut short because they've needed to go outside for a smoke, and I find that rather disruptive."

"If that's all it does, I see no reason ta stop."

"Well, I'm not your mother; I can't tell you what to do. Go right ahead."

"You're jus' gonna give up? Ise was starting ta think you had guts, Kate," Race's lips started to quirk.

"Well, I'm not going to try to fight a losing battle. I'll have won when I see you in a few years, and all your teeth will have rotted and your breath will stink. Then you'll realize that I was right, and you were wrong."

Before Race had time to come up with a reply to that comment (and Kate had no doubt that he could think one up quickly), three more boys burst through the door. One was fairly good-looking, with messy brown hair that, in Kate's opinion, could use a trim, and he wore a red bandanna around his neck. The other one was a boy about the same age, and he wore a dark blue shirt. His curly hair was cut short, and Kate suspected that he was of higher financial status than most of the other boys; this boy didn't have the same downtrodden, loping stride or demeanor that she'd started to notice that the other boys had. A little boy burst in right next to the boy in the blue shirt, and Kate suspected that they were either siblings or had a sibling-like relationship.

"Hey Crutchy!" Bandanna boy called. "Who's the girl? Did ya finally get one?"

"No, Jack, she ain't my girl," Crutchy replied, "This is Miss Kate, and she's callin' in an old favor. She was being chased by Oscar this mornin', and she needs to stay, how long, Miss Kate?"

"Two days, at the most," Kate replied promptly, "Your landlord, Mr. Kloppman, was kind enough to loan me a room in the attic."

"We're havin' a problem wit' sheets, though," Crutchy continued, "Snipeshooter told her that she could take da sheets off of Race's bunk, but he wasn't there when she did it, and she didn't know that da bunk was his…"

"I get the picture," Jack, formerly known as Bandanna Boy, responded, and Kate had a feeling that he did. Jack carried himself like a leader, so she was confident that he'd settle this in a manner that was appropriate. "Okay, she can keep the sheets. Race, you can take Snipeshooter's bunk."

"What?!" Snipeshooter cried out. "That ain't fair, Jack!"

"It ain't fair to Race that you tricked someone into stealin' his sheets. Sheets are kinda hard to come by 'round here. You can sleep on the floor or use Les's bunk until Race gets his sheets back."

"No fair!" Snipeshooter exclaimed. "Come on, Jack!"

"Snipe, I'm fine with you using my bunk. David and I'll be stayin' at home most days anyway," the little boy, who must have been Les, responded.

"Have you gotten ta know the boys here besides, Crutchy, Kate?" Jack asked. Kate admired the fact that he was taking what could have been a difficult situation on with maturity, and as gracefully as a true leader should.

"Not really," she replied, "I know Snipeshooter, and Race has done an excellent job of making himself known."

"He's good at that," Jack easily agreed, "Race also tends to be a little…protective when it comes to his stuff."

"I've noticed," Kate answered. "He's made that very clear."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Race called from across the room. Kate rolled her eyes, and Jack and Crutchy looked like they were trying to stifle chuckles.

"Well, time for you to meet the rest of the boys," Jack smiled.

"Firstly," Kate asked, "is there a bunk here which is acceptable for me to sit down on? I'm quite tired after today's events."

"You can use mine, Miss Kate," Crutchy said kindly.

"Oh no, you've been standing on a bad leg all day! I couldn't do that to you!"

"How about you use Race's mattress?" Jack asked. "Nobody's usin' that bed anytime soon."

"Sounds good," Kate smiled back. Race didn't react to that, much to Kate's dismay, which surprised her.

She sat down on the mattress, Jack insisting on being a gentleman and helping her down. Even though it was coarser and less full than she was used to, she felt a wave of comfort crash onto her nonetheless. Kate wanted to just fall flat on her back and sleep, but she forced herself to maintain proper posture, and sat on the bed with her back as straight as a ramrod, and her neck slightly tilted upwards.

"Okay, time to introduce you to the boys." Jack grinned. He'd clearly been waiting to do this ever since he knew that there was going to be a new face in the lodging house. "That's David in the blue shirt, and his little brother with the sword is Les…"

Kate heard so many names in the next ten minutes that she was about ready to fall asleep from the exhaustion of having to remember them all. Jack didn't just introduce them by name; he had a small story to tell about each one. Kate was particularly amused by the one he told her about Mush, wherein the poor boy fell in love with a girl one night and tried to charm her in various ways, each more ridiculous than the next, until the rejection became too much for him. She stopped smiling when she saw Mush's face, however. The boy was clearly trying to laugh it off, but she could almost feel his pain.

As Jack prepared to rattle off another list of names after he finished Kid Blink's introduction, Kate delicately raised her hand to interrupt him.

"Forgive me, Jack," she said, "I'd love to meet the rest of the boys, but it's been a long day and I'm quite tired. If I may, I would like to excuse myself."

Jack looked befuddled. "Of course. Yeah, um, I shoulda guessed that you were tired. I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right," she said, standing up from Race's mattress and feeling another wave of dizziness wash over her. "You… couldn't have known. I've had to conceal my fatigue many times over the years."

"Yeah, an' what could possibly make scabs tired?" Race drawled from the large pack of boys. "Walkin'?" The other boys laughed, except for Crutchy, Jack, and the boy with curly hair whose name Kate had forgotten after she was hit with what amounted to a tidal wave of them.

"Depends," Kate replied, head spinning, "Is this scab that you just mentioned wearing a corset? Because walking with one of those on is _exhausting_ , let alone…fleeing for ten minutes in one." Race had the decency to be embarrassed.

She staggered towards the door; the boys were kind enough to move so that she had a clear path. Unfortunately, she couldn't make it to the door before she started to see dark spots dance in front of her eyes. Her adrenaline had finally started to give out. Once she made it to the door, she gripped the knob to help keep her balance as she reached her other hand out for the stair rail that led to the attic.

"Are you okay?" the curly-haired boy asked her. "You look like you're going to faint."

He was right. Kate's waist had started to feel like it was caving in on itself, and the dizziness kept getting worse.

"It's funny…" she managed to get out.

"What?" he asked.

"That I mentioned corsets…" she mumbled.

The last thing Kate heard before she blacked out was the curly haired boy saying, "I'll get my sister. She'll know what to do."


	5. The Cat's First Meows

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the late update; I've been having a very busy spring. Thanks for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews, and I hope to put up more updates this summer!**

 **Enjoy the chapter,**

 **Raven**

Chapter 5

Kate didn't know how long she'd been asleep for, but when she woke up, she was in her own bed in the attic. Another girl was sitting at her bedside, and Kate screamed.

"It's all right," the girl laughed, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"No," Kate breathed out, "it's fine. I'm sorry I startled you; I'm not used to having strangers sitting at my bedside."

There was a bit of awkward laughter before the girl continued, "My name's Sarah. I'm David's sister. He ran home to get me when you fainted."

"Something feels different, but I'm not sure what it is."

"It's probably that I unlaced and removed your corset after you fainted. Don't worry, none of the boys saw. David carried you up to the attic while Jack went to get me."

"So you know these boys well then?" Kate assumed.

"Well, yes. David and Les are my brothers. I assume you've met them?"

"If the boy in the blue shirt's name is David, then I think I have, yes."

"And I'm sure you've met Jack," Kate noticed that when Sarah mentioned Jack's name, she blushed slightly.

"Yes, I have. He's very charming," Kate replied. "Does he lead this motley crew?"

"Yes, he does," Sarah said. "He's a very inspiring leader, isn't he?"

"Mhm," Kate replied. "He was one of the first to make me feel welcome here."

"Speaking of that," Sarah asked, "what are you doing here anyways?"

"Hiding from Oscar Delancey." Kate said simply, and Sarah gasped.

"I'm so sorry," she replied. "I know firsthand how dangerous the Delanceys can be, especially to women. They have clearly never been taught how to treat ladies."

"No, they haven't," Kate agreed. "Oscar hit an old woman with a whip just because he thought she was getting in the way."

"That's horrible!" Sarah exclaimed, raising a hand to her mouth. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a brute like him though." Kate started to notice that Sarah didn't speak at all like the boys in the lodging house. Her tone was more refined, as if she came from a position that was closer to Kate's in society.

"Sarah," Kate asked, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but do you go to school?"

"Oh, no," Sarah replied, shaking her head, "My family doesn't have the money to send me to school. My brothers David and Les go to public school though."

"I see," Kate replied, "I go to an all girls' school here in the city. There aren't many students, but that works better for me. I can't imagine I'd do as well studying in a setting like they have in the public schools…" Kate then realized the stance that she had could offend Sarah. After all, most young ladies never got the opportunity to have an education, and especially not at a private school; Kate knew that. She made sure to apologize immediately.

"You don't have to apologize," Sarah said in response. "We just have different life experiences. You go to school, and I stay home and sew lace creations to help boost the family income. I doubt you believe that one class is better than another. You don't seem like that kind of person, especially if you saved Crutchy a few years ago."

"I've never believed in judging somebody by how much money they have," Kate replied easily, "The Delanceys are a walking example of that, and the incident with Crutchy got around that quickly? Wow."

"You really shouldn't be surprised; they're newsboys," Sarah grinned.

"I suppose I shouldn't be." Kate smiled back. She felt that she had found a kindred spirit in Sarah, and she wished that there were more people who were as kind as she was in high society. Typically, the girls who Kate was "friends" with at parties were the types of girls who either came from old money and were incredibly snooty about it, or they came from new money and were trying to rub elbows with the "big shots" in order to better ensure their futures as Mrs. Rockefeller, Mrs. Vanderbilt, etc.

That didn't mean that every girl Kate's age that she knew was snobby or a backstabber however; Kate had some true friends in high society as well. The mayor's daughter, Margaret, was a lovely blonde girl who was so generous and friendly that she made even the kindest man look like a total jackass, and Julia Gould, the railroad baron's daughter, was also kind, but she had more of a cynical streak to her than Margaret did. Kate was the middle-man of that trio; whenever Margaret and Julia disagreed, it was almost always up to her to make the final vote. Thankfully, the other two didn't disagree often, and the three were very close friends.

'Those two must be worried sick about me right now', Kate thought. 'I know I'd be panicking if I were in either of their shoes.'

"Sarah?" Kate asked.

The other girl had resumed her sewing while Kate had been lost in thought. "Hm?" she asked as she finished a stitch.

"I would like to go home soon. If I'm not back by the end of the day, my father and friends might start to panic."

"I understand that feeling completely," Sarah replied. "However, the DeLanceys might still be trying to hunt you down. I'll talk to the boys when they get back from selling, and we'll see what the situation is then."

"All right," Kate agreed.

"I'm going to get a glass of water. Are you well enough to walk with me, or should I get one for you?" Sarah asked.

"I'm feeling much better now that I'm not laced into that death trap, so I'll come with you and take a glass of water for myself," Kate replied as she rose from the bed.

Just as Sarah and Kate were about to leave the room, the door swung open at lightning speed, and Snipeshooter burst into the room.

"Bad news, Kate," he said, holding up the day's evening edition. "I don't think you're gonna want to leave here any time soon."

Kate quickly read the headline and gasped:

 **MAYOR'S DAUGHTER, BANKER'S DAUGHTER KIDNAPPED AND LAWYER'S DAUGHTER MISSING; HIGH SOCIETY LADIES IN HOT WATER**

"Snipeshooter, please pass me the newspaper," Kate all but demanded. He handed it over immediately.

 _This afternoon, at approximately 2:00 PM, muffled screams could be heard from Mayor Theodore Roosevelt's home as his only daughter, Margaret Roosevelt, was kidnapped by unknown assailants. They were somehow able to infiltrate the mansion and secure Margaret without catching anyone's eye, only leaving a statue of a golden cat on the kidnapped girl's bed as evidence that they had been there. No valuables were harmed in the house. Police arrived on the scene at 2:15 PM, and could find no evidence as to who could have committed the crime besides the statue that the criminals left behind._

 _Another statue as golden as the first was found in the home of Cornelius Vanderbilt after police arrived at 2:30 PM; his daughter Mary was also kidnapped around the same time as Miss Roosevelt. Once again, valuables in the home remained untouched and unharmed. Police are currently working to discover the culprits of the two crimes._

 _Katherine Jameson, another young lady of society, has also been reported missing by her father at 3:00 PM, when he returned to his house from work and his daughter was not at home. No golden cat was left on her bed, so it is assumed that she was kidnapped by another group of assailants._

 _If the reader has any further information on these horrible crimes, he is highly encouraged to telephone the following number…_

"Snipeshooter, does this building have a telephone?" Kate asked.

"Yeah, why?" Snipeshooter asked.

"I want to call my father and let him know I'm all right. As much as I want to go home right now, I'm not entirely sure if it's wise. I think it best if I discuss matters with him before choosing a proper course of action."

"Dang, you sound like all the rest of those hoity-toity folk," he groaned. "Can't you loosen up a bit?"

"Loosen up?" Kate snapped, " _Loosen_ _up?_ My best friend has been kidnapped, I have been reported missing and could potentially be a kidnapping target, _and you expect me to loosen UP?_ "

"Sorry I asked! I'll go sell my papes now." Snipeshooter made the hastiest exit of his life after that.

Kate pressed her fingers to her forehead and took a few deep breaths.

"I'm sorry," she said, apologizing to no one in particular as she felt a migraine headache coming on, "it's just that hearing this news is incredibly stressful. I hope I didn't hurt his feelings too badly."

"Don't worry," Sarah consoled. "As you might well imagine, Snipeshooter's seen the other boys throw worse temper tantrums than that, and it's perfectly natural that you're upset. Your whole world just turned upside down."

"I think I'll get my glass of water now, if you don't mind," Kate said as calmly as possible, her hands shaking as she walked out of the room.

Sarah just nodded. She didn't know that Kate was currently dreaming up worst case scenarios in her mind of her best friend and one of her acquaintances' dead bodies being found in some dumpster in Harlem. She didn't know that Kate was imagining the celebration that might occur in the lower classes if that did in fact happen, and the crimes against her part of the world that could then feasibly happen.

However, Sarah could easily guess that Kate was terrified that she would be the next victim.


	6. A Midnight Truce

**Sorry for the long wait, everyone! As you may have already guessed, I'm a terrible updater, but I always hope that the chapters are worth the wait! Oh, and if you want to drop me a review, tell me one thing in it: which ship are you rooting for? I want to get a feel for the audience's reactions here.**

 **Happy reading!**

An hour after Kate learned of her best friend's disappearance, she was sitting quietly on Race's stripped bunk in a state of shock with an empty glass of water by her side. She knew she had to call her father and let him know that she was all right, but she was also starting to panic and think that her friend's kidnappers had tapped her home's phone line, or found some other way to know where she was, and kidnap her then and there. There wasn't exactly much she could do about it if they did show up. Kate was not very strong, and she doubted anything that she'd read in a book would be very helpful in a physical confrontation. She knew if it came to that, which it most likely would, she would lose immediately, and then what? _Then what?_

Her thoughts were starting to drift towards food after she saw that the wall clock in the bunkroom read 7:00 PM and her stomach reminded her that she hadn't had anything to eat in about seven hours, when her inner dialogue was interrupted by rowdy newsies bursting in through the door to their bunkroom talking about who-knows-what. However, as soon as they saw Kate, their conversations quickly ceased and turned into complete and awkward silence.

"Hi Miss Kate," Crutchy said almost nervously as he hobbled over towards her. He was still somehow able to put on a slight smile as he handed her something wrapped in thin paper. "The boys an' I thought it would be a good idea to get you somethin' t'eat. That's a turkey sandwich from Tibby's, the best place around. Well, for people like us anyway. I'm sure yoah used to nicer, but…"

"Thank you, Crutchy," Kate was barely able to choke out a whisper. "That was incredibly kind of all of you."

"We read the paper," he said, and that was all she needed to know.

"And what would you do," she asked, "if you were in my position? I have to let my father know that I'm all right, but I'm worried that if I do that, then these villains will figure out a way to find me, and then I don't know what will happen."

"Well, the important thing is that they haven't found you yet," he said with a smile, "and we won't let 'em, right fellas?"

Varying nods and agreeable sounds rang out around the bunkroom.

"Now then," said Jack, "what are we gonna do? No offense Kate, but we was only expectin' you to stay one night at the most. After that newspaper article though, we're guessin' you'll want to stay a little longer, right?"

Kate nodded as she sank her teeth into her sandwich. Granted, it was only turkey on a roll, but it was still the best sandwich she'd ever tasted, except for the tea sandwiches that Miss Hutchins made when the Jameson family was hosting afternoon tea. In Kate's opinion, nothing in the world could match Miss Hutchins's cooking, but the chef at Tibby's came quite close.

Someone had refilled her empty glass when she turned to grab it with the intention of filling it up herself, and Kate wished she knew who to thank.

"Yes," she said after she'd swallowed the food in her mouth, "I think it wisest for me to stay here until things die down a bit. However, I would hate it if people who are practically strangers to me felt obligated to help me because I'm a woman, wealthy, or both."

"No one feels like they've gotta do anythin', if that's what that fancy word with the o meant," Jack responded. "We all talked it over at dinner, and me and my boys are willin' to help ya in any way we can until this whole mess dies down. No one deserves to have to deal with the Delanceys on their tail, and besides, Crutchy owes ya one."

Kate managed to choke out a "Thank you."

"Really, Miss Kate, it's nothin'," Crutchy replied. "You did it for me when I was in trouble. I'm glad I get to return the favor."

"I'd like to call my father, and tell him I'm all right," Kate managed to mutter.

"I'll go tell Kloppman ta get the phone," Jack replied. "D'you need a minute or…?"

"That would be nice," Kate replied, trying not to let the boys see how many emotions were swirling around in her mind. She politely excused herself from their bunkroom, and went up to her space in the attic. When the boys heard a loud wail and muffled tears a minute later, none of them were surprised, but none of them knew what they could say or do to help her.

Sometimes, a good cry can help people relieve stress, and while it didn't completely fix Kate's emotional state, it did make her feel a bit better. She sat on the edge of her bed with red-rimmed eyes, gathering the courage to walk down the stairs and use the lodging house's telephone to call her father.

Eventually, she got up, and walked down the wooden steps. The boys were fast asleep; the lights were out in the bunkroom and she could hear muffled snores from behind the door. She wondered how some of them could even sleep having to listen to the cacophony of snores and the occasional moan as they were trying to sleep. Then again, she thought, they were probably used to it.

Kate made sure to try and step lightly so that she didn't wake anyone who was trying to sleep through that racket, and headed down the stairs to Kloppman's desk. She saw the telephone hanging on the back wall waiting for her to grab it, its shiny handle calling out to her. However, Kate hesitated. She didn't want to wake up her father. The call could wait; he needed rest.

She walked past the phone and headed out to the porch to think about whether or not to wake up her father at midnight, and if she did, what kind of a risk was she taking by doing so? Would it even be her father who picked up? What if the people who were kidnapping her friends were somehow on to her too? What next? What was the plan now?

"Can't sleep?" She heard a familiar voice coming from her left, along with a smell of cigar smoke.

"Not really," she replied. "I'm still thinking about whether or not I should call my father."

"I'd call him in the morning, when you're both all rested up, but that's me." Kate couldn't help but notice the dying embers on the end of the cigar that he'd been smoking before she came outside. "If you call him now, you'll just be a mess."

"Right now, I'm only a mess because I don't have a plan." They were the first words that came to Kate's mind, and as soon as she said them, she realized that they were true. No matter how quickly she had to improvise one, Kate Jameson always had a plan.

"Well then, better think of one fast," Racetrack replied as he put out his cigar. "You know, it's a good thing that you're a planner; it'll keep you alive longer while you're here."

"That was the closest you've come to complimenting me all day," Kate smiled slightly. "What's changed?"

"Nothin's changed," Racetrack smirked back, "except that I don't attack a lady when she's weak, but with you, I doubt that'll last long. I bet that by tomorrow, you'll be back to your normal self."

"And yet you'd happily pay for the services of a prostitute," Kate frowned in thought. "Is she not a woman in a state of weakness as well?"

Racetrack took his cigar out of the ashtray, and pulled out a pocketwatch from his breast pocket. "Would you look at that?" he sarcastically mused as he checked the time, "It's tomorrow already. Told you."

Kate was more interested in the object in Race's hand than she was in what he'd just said. "Is that pocket watch made out of…"

"Gold?" Racetrack smirked. "Wouldn't you love to know?"

"Actually, I would. If it's gold, then you could sell it, and potentially get yourself on the path to a better life. Why keep it?"

"Typical scab girls," Race groaned, "only concerned with money this, money that. The newsboys are my family. I ain't leavin' them for nothin'. Also, this watch is a special little keepsake, so I'll never sell it for nothin' either."

"What makes it so special?"

"Ah, ah, ah," He wagged his finger at her. "That's another story for another day."

"Technically," Kate smiled, "you did say it was 'tomorrow' a few minutes ago. Time doesn't always work to your individual advantage, you know."

"Yeah," Racetrack replied, "and right now, it's workin' against you. Get some sleep and call your pop when you're rested and clear in the head. If he tells you ta stay with us, then you can sell with Crutchy. He'd be happy to teach ya how, I'm sure. There's your plan. You're welcome."

"I would thank you for the plan, if I hadn't already though of it," Kate shouted to Race's retreating back as he walked back into the lodging house. He just put his hand up in response. She entered the building a few minutes later, and went up to her room, head still swimming with hypotheses about how a boy like Racetrack had managed to come across a golden pocket watch as she drifted off to sleep.


	7. The Game's Afoot

**Well, thank you all for all the hits on the last chapter! And Guest, thank you so much for reviewing and sticking with this story even though I'm usually really bad at updating. Here's a rare treat: a new chapter, hot off the presses! I wasn't even expecting that this chapter would turn out the way that it did, and this story's been on my mind for ages! I know the newsies don't play as big of a role in this chapter (hey, Kloppman needs some love, folks), but don't worry;** **the** **boys will be back next time, and a fan favorite who hasn't made his debut yet may even be joining us!**

Chapter 7

The next morning, Kate woke up to shouts and thuds. She was momentarily disoriented before she remembered where she was, why she was there, and what she needed to do. As she stretched the sleep out of her system, she heard various newsboys yell at each other to, "pass the soap, you bum!" or "Fuddah last time, Crutchy, move your damn elbow!"; that remark was quickly followed by a "Don't swear in front of the children, Skitts!" shouted by someone who sounded suspiciously like Racetrack.

She walked down the stairs as a boy, Skitts, she assumed, responded to Race's verbal attack by quipping, "I'm so sorry that I offended yah delicate ears, Higgins!"

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" another boy screamed; "everyone AVOID the bathroom fuddah next ten minutes; Blink just took his morning…"

"WILL YOU QUIT ANNOUNCING THAT MUSH?!" another boy screamed as Kate heard the door to what must have been the bathroom slam open.

"I'll stop doin' it when it stops stinkin' up the place," Mush replied frankly, and Kate imagined he was shrugging his shoulders.

Despite being raised not to laugh at these things, she couldn't help but laugh quietly as she heard the constant shouting and joking down below her. Despite the fact that some of them were arguing with each other, there was no doubt in her mind that the newsboys were a family. Instead of going down the stairs to use the phone, she decided to simply sit on the attic stairs and listen to the good-natured teasing and babble. She couldn't help but wish that the Jameson estate were livelier; her home was certainly happy, but it was quiet.

After more jostling and yelling, Kate watched the newsboys file out from her seat on the steps. Some saw her and tipped their hats to her, including Snipeshooter. The other boys were too wrapped up in their everyday morning routines to consider doing so, but Kate didn't really mind; after all, if everything went the way that she hoped it would, they'd most likely never see her again. That thought slightly saddened her, but she knew that that was simply the way things had to be. After the newsboys filed out, Kate made her way to the front desk, and picked up the phone. Kloppman gave her a smile, and walked out of the room to give her some privacy. Kate made sure to smile her thanks in return.

Dialing home wasn't a problem at all; Johanna, one of Kate's favorite maids, picked up on the second ring.

"Mr. Frederick Jameson's estate, Johanna speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hello Johanna," Kate beamed, and she could hear the maid gasp on the other end.

"Mistress Kate?" the maid almost whispered, and Kate guessed that she might have been trying to hold back tears.

"This is she," Kate grinned, relief washing over her. "It's so good to hear your voice, Johanna. Is Father well?"

"Your father's been worried sick about you ever since you disappeared yesterday. Where are you? I can send someone to…"

"Johanna," Kate hesitantly replied, "I would like to speak to Father before we take any further action, all right? As you may be aware…"

"Oh yes, of course, you're afraid because of the Roosevelt and Gould kidnappings yesterday," Johanna replied matter-of-factly, almost a little too quickly in Kate's opinion. "Are they with you? Is that where you are?"

"No," Kate replied, "thankfully not, but I wish they were; I'm in a safe place. Johanna, I have loved talking to you, but I really must talk with my father."

"I'm sorry dear," Johanna replied, "but your father's not home right now. The mayor and Mr. Gould have hired him to attempt to enter negotiations with their daughter's kidnappers. It's on the front page of this morning's newspaper! Oh, he'll be so pleased when he finds out that he's front page news!"

"Do they know who kidnapped these girls? Is that why they hired my father, to ensure that these criminals are brought to justice?" Kate asked, curiosity gaining the upper hand.

"No, but your father was hired as a consultant for when the police do find out, and he's giving them advice about what actions they can take as the case develops. You can't be too careful with kidnappers like this, I'd imagine," Johanna replied. "Now, Kate, where are you? I'll call your father's office and let him know, so that he can call you a cab."

"With all due respect, Johanna," Kate replied, "after what happened to me yesterday, I'd rather not get into any cab unless my father is either driving or inside of it."

"I understand that completely," Johanna replied sincerely. "After what happened yesterday, I'm not surprised that you would think that way. I'd hate to be greeted by the emerald stare of one of those cats when I opened your door and know that you had…!"

Emerald stare? Kate thought. "Johanna…" she started to ask, but Johanna promptly hung up the phone.

Kate's mind was a blur as she placed the phone back on the hanger. She hadn't remembered reading that the cats had emerald eyes in the newspaper, but there was an easy way to find out.

"Mr. Kloppman," Kate called, and the old man shuffled out from where he had been awkwardly standing in the hallway to give Kate her privacy while she was on the phone.

"Yes, Miss Jameson?" he asked.

"Kate's fine," she smiled. "Could I have yesterday's newspaper, please?"

"Of course," he said, pulling it out from behind his desk and placing it on the counter, "but why, if I may ask, do you need it?"

"I heard something odd over the phone," Kate replied as she sifted through the pages, searching for the article that discussed the kidnappings. "My maid supplied me with a detail about the cats that were on the girls' beds that I hadn't remembered reading about."

"That sounds suspicious indeed," Kloppman agreed as Kate's eyes scanned the front page of the newspaper a second time. After a few moments, he asked, "So, are you correct? Is that detail absent?"

Kate scanned the article. "For once, Kloppman, I'd love to be wrong. There is nothing here about emerald eyes, and she hung up immediately after I tried to question her about it."

"That does not bode well for your safety in your own home," Kloppman replied. "So, Miss Jameson, what does this mean for you?"

"What it means for me," Kate replied, "is that my maids can't be trusted. They, or at least some of them, are somehow involved with the kidnappers." Oh, how Kate prayed that Miss Hutchins wasn't entangled in this mess. "This might be true in almost every wealthy household, and if so, it would explain how they got into both the mayor's and Mr. Vanderbilt's homes without leaving a trace; the maids may have let them in, and told them exactly where to go. Both kidnappings were clearly about the girls alone; as the news article mentioned, no valuables were stolen, so for some reason, the girls are more important."

"You're quite the detective," Kloppman smiled. "So, since you know you can't trust your maids, and that you are most likely a target of these kidnappers, what is your next move, Miss Jameson?"

Kate frowned in thought. "If my hypothesis is correct, and the maids are involved with the kidnappers somehow, then they are also unlikely to call the police until after their associates have successfully escaped. They will also most likely clean up their tracks so that the police won't find anything that could incriminate said association. I say 'association' because it is clear that the two crimes in the newspaper are related; I am still unsure if my unfortunate carriage ride yesterday was somehow linked to these crimes, but I cannot discount the possibility."

"Please continue, Miss Holmes."

Kate couldn't help but beam at Kloppman for that remark. It was rare that she was praised for her intelligence back home. She was loved there, certainly, but unless she had an opinion on what dress she wanted to wear, or how she wanted her hair to be styled, people often didn't care about what she had to say.

"If maids' loyalty can be so easily swayed by these criminals, then it is clear that they are wealthy ones, perhaps wealthier than most of New York society. Obviously, the way that they make their money will require further investigation. As for my plan of action, well, after that phone call, I don't think I'll be returning home anytime soon. I'll ask to meet with Sarah later today for a change of clothes and a shower, and covertly see if I can find any useful information to help the police with their investigation."

"You're going to try and catch your kidnappers before they catch you, with no help at all?" Kloppman raised his eyebrows. "That's a remarkably bold move, Miss Jameson. Considering your earlier behavior, I would have expected you to want to stay put here until the crime was completely resolved."

"And simply sit and watch as my friends get kidnapped while potentially being a target myself?" Kate's eyes turned steely, "I think not, Mr. Kloppman. The time has come for me to start playing a more active role in my own fate. Yesterday taught me that."

"So, Miss Jameson, now that you know what you're going to do, how do you plan to go about doing it?" Kloppman asked.

"Kate is fine, Kloppman, and I want to find one of those cats," Kate replied. "The investigation has to start with them."

"If I was in your shoes, Miss Ja-I mean Kate," Kloppman replied, "that is exactly what I would do, but I will warn you, detective work in the real world does not often turn out like a Sherlock Holmes novel. Many of my boys have tried to investigate matters of their own sort in the past, and those have usually resulted in someone getting seriously injured, and once, killed. For your own sake, I suggest you tread cautiously."

"I plan to," Kate stated confidently, which did not give Kloppman a great amount of confidence. "After all, I won't be going in alone, at least I hope not."

"My boys will want to help you…" Kloppman sighed in resignation.

"I had a feeling they would," Kate replied merrily as her stomach growled. Cringing in embarrassment, she asked Kloppman where a good place would be to find some breakfast, and he gave her a slip of paper with an address on it, along with some spare change.

"I wish you luck, Kate!" Kloppman called as she left.

"Thank you; I'll need some!" Kate replied as she opened the paper with Kloppman's recommended breakfast spot on it. She trusted him to know where one could find a good breakfast on a budget, so when she opened up the slip of paper, she was horrified at the address she'd found written on it.

 _Madame Maxine's Maison de Dames_

 _350 West Broadway_

 _I know, this is not what you were expecting, but Maxine is a dear friend of mine, and will welcome you for breakfast with open arms. She has a client that always provides her with delicious smoked salmon at a very reasonable price. Try some on toast, with cream cheese if she has some! It's positively divine._

 _Have a wonderful day, and best of luck,_

 _Kloppman_

Kate's face turned an ugly shade of red. Madame Maxine's was only known in her social circles because of all of the scandals that had been born in its countless bedchambers. Frankly, she was astonished that Kloppman knew the owner, and even more so that he recommended it for a _meal_ , of all things. However, she thought, if Kloppman knows the owner, perhaps Maxine could help her with her investigation. After all, wealthy men can spill wealthy secrets, and no place was more notorious for that than Madame Maxine's.


	8. Madame Maxine's Maison de Dames

**Hey guys! Thanks for all of the new faves and follows, and all of this traffic! I am honestly floored by how many people want this to** **keep going. As a thank you, here's the new chapter! I know a lot of you are just visiting, and that's great, but I really love it when people review to give me constructive criticism, or just to tell me how I'm doing with this story. It makes my day to hear other people's feedback and comments!**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

Chapter 8

Madame Maxine's was located in what Kate's father referred to as the "Deep South of Manhattan." Geographically, the "Deep South" truly was near the southernmost part of Manhattan island, and economically, the neighborhood only supported the dregs of society. Kate's father had told her some stories about the neighborhood when he had had to visit it in order to interview eyewitnesses to a robbery that had occurred on the southern side of Houston Street. When he had returned home that day, he was thoroughly shaken by some of the things he had seen; when Kate pressed for details, he ignored her and walked up to his study.

Kate hoped that her haggard appearance would protect her from the worst treatment she could receive in this neighborhood; she knew that in her current state, with her ripped dress, tired eyes, and messy hair, she blended right in with the Deep South's residents. Luckily or unluckily for her, she did blend in with the crowd as she looked for 350 West Broadway.

As she walked, discreetly looking at street signs to make sure she was going the right way, Kate understood why her father didn't tell her anything about what life was really like in the Deep South of Manhattan. She saw countless children curled up in the gutters, starving to death. The air smelled like sewage, and she saw a burst pipe that had emerged from underground spewing brackish water into the street. Children were dancing and playing in this fountain of sorts, which Kate would have found cute if she didn't already know that that water was full of germs, and that all of them would most likely get sick and die in a few weeks from playing in it. She wanted to tell them to get out of there, but she knew that if she opened her mouth, her high-class accent would give her away.

She saw women with faces caked in makeup patrolling the streets purposefully, as if they were on the hunt for prey. Kate figured that one of them might be able to point her towards Madame Maxine's, but she decided not to ask, and pretended that she knew exactly where she was going. If she asked one of the girls, she knew that she might get false directions or a slap in the face, and Kate was not about to take that risk. She never noticed that one of those girls had turned around pointedly as she passed.

A drunk man stumbled out of an alleyway that smelled like piss, and made a grab for Kate's skirt. She nimbly jumped out of the way and kept moving, but he just grunted with mild frustration and lunged at her again. Once again, Kate managed to evade him, and she was thankful that alcohol had made the man clumsy as he stumbled and fell face-first into a pile of manure that could have been made by either a human or a horse. Kate ran as fast as her tired and hungry legs could carry her, and the sight of the West Broadway street sign in front of her felt like divine salvation.

Since Kate was quietly inspecting house numbers in order to find the number 350, she didn't notice the other girl striding purposefully behind her until a clammy hand clamped down on her shoulder. Eyes wide with fear, Kate turned around to face a prostitute, dressed in an outfit that barely covered her chest and legs, but appeared to be made out of luxurious materials; the skirt looked like it could have been sewn out of pale pink silk, while the matching top looked almost no different than some of Kate's undergarments back home. Seeing such luxuries being so openly displayed in the dregs of Manhattan surprised Kate greatly.

"Why'd you turn down Mr. Cooper?" the girl asked disdainfully. Kate assumed that the girl was talking about the drunk man who fell in a pile of shit.

"I-I wasn't interested," Kate replied nervously.

"He's such a bum," the girl remarked, shaking her head full of hastily piled up blonde curls. "Honestly, I've made quite a pretty penny offa him in the past. He'll pay you ten bucks for just a kiss or five. Easy money."

"As I said before," Kate replied, "I wasn't interested."

"Must be your first day at work," the girl said, raising her eyebrows. "Any workin' girl with any experience knows she can't be choosy. I know he looks like a dog, but he pays like a saint."

"I-I'm not working," Kate replied. "I'm looking for 350 West Broadway."

"So you're not working, but you're looking for work," the other girl teased. Kate blushed in embarrassment. "Lucky for you, I know exactly where that is. It happens to be my office." She quickly linked arms with Kate, to Kate's quiet protest, and turned around, Kate stumbling to keep up with her fast pace.

"So tell me, what's your name, doll? I've never seen you around her before."

Kate weighed her options for a moment before deciding to say, "Kate."

"Just Kate?"

"Just Kate," Kate hastily replied.

"Charlotte le Rouge," the girl greeted in a perfect French accent with a flick of her wrists. "You know," she commented, switching back to her American accent, "Charlotte rhymes with 'harlot'. Ha!"

Kate didn't find that particularly funny.

"So, Kate, where ya from? You don't sound like you're from here."

"I'm from…right around Duane Street," Kate replied, praying that Charlotte wouldn't pry any further. The other girl was still strong-arming her down the street, and Kate's brain was going in and out of focus. She needed food.

"Ooh, Duane Street. I started working there when I was about fourteen. Those newsboys were some of my favorite customers!" Charlotte stated, making Kate blush again. "Hey, no need to be embarrassed; even newsboys gotta release their urges at some point, eh? Must be awful living in a crowded bunkhouse with other boys, never getting any kinda release whatsoever. When I was a girl just startin' out, they were about my age so it didn't feel too weird turning tricks on 'em, and _damn_ , do I want to see them again sometimes, especially that Higgins boy. As I'm sure you know, Kate, you never _ever_ forget your first."

"So, why did you leave if you…enjoyed their company so much?" Kate asked, trying to get over the fact that there were probably a lot of germs seeping into her arm from Charlotte's, and her own embarrassment with the entire situation. She really hoped that she didn't know whoever the Higgins boy was; it would be an embarrassing situation if she knew the boy responsible for de-flowering a prostitute that she had just met.

"Because Maxine is an amazing boss, that's why!" Charlotte replied. "I'd much rather have a woman boss than a man in our profession; isn't that why you want to find her place?"

"Um, yes, right," Kate lied. "Exactly." She had to think up something more than that; otherwise, Charlotte would see right through her. "I heard that she treats her workers fairly, and that many customers give her favors."

"Damn right they do. We get some pretty good stuff from all the tips our _wealthier_ clientele give us." Kate started to shake with nerves. Had Charlotte figured her out? She probably had; Kate knew that she hadn't made it difficult to do so. Her accent gave her away. She turned her red face to the ground and didn't reply.

"Okay, you're clearly new to this since you're so embarrassed about everything. Talk to Maxine; she'll set you up with an easy client to start out with, I'm sure. Oh, here we are!" Charlotte squeezed Kate's arm and pointed to a building that, on the outside, looked like a light breeze could blow it over. Kate did not feel comfortable even walking near it, but Charlotte dragged her up the steps anyway. As soon as Charlotte rang the bell in front of the door, another prostitute opened the door, and Charlotte dropped Kate's arm as the latter entered the infamous brothel for the first time, mouth dropping open in shock.

It was clear to Kate immediately that the shabby exterior was a well-planned façade; the inside of the building didn't look much different to Kate than her friend Julia Gould's sitting room. The walls were covered in luxurious deep red wallpaper with patterns of twisting vines, and plush couches were tastefully placed at various places in the spacious room; most were close to the stairs, but a few were tucked away in corners. There were tables in front of a few of the couches; at one of them, one prostitute was teaching two other girls how to pour tea properly, and at another, three girls were sewing patterns into silk handkerchiefs. Kate almost felt like she was back home; the only thing breaking that illusion was the fact that she knew that all of these girls sold their bodies for money, which saddened her. However, she couldn't help but slightly smile her thanks to Kloppman. Even though this was a brothel, it did remind her of the life that she was used to, and she was suddenly sure that Kloppman knew the building's secret.

"What?" Charlotte snarkily snapped Kate out of her reverie. "Just because our house looks rotten on the outside doesn't mean it isn't rich on the inside. Just like you, I'd suspect, right Kate?"

"Yes," Kate replied sadly, "I'm afraid I didn't do an excellent job of concealing which rung on the society ladder I belong to."

"But why is a rich girl like you turning to prostitution?" Charlotte asked as she and Kate walked over to a couch.

"I'm not," Kate stated, relieved that she didn't have to lie anymore. "The breakfast here came highly recommended, and I have some spare change." She then pulled the coins that Kloppman had given her out of where she had concealed them in her shoe. "Will this much change buy me some smoked salmon and toast with cream cheese?"

Charlotte counted the money out carefully before smiling, "It should be just enough. You're lucky. I'll go talk to the cook, but you still haven't answered my question."

"I thought I had," Kate raised an eyebrow.

"Not really," Charlotte replied. "What I really want to know, Kate, is what the hell a rich girl like you is doing in this part of the city. There must be more to this story than just getting some breakfast."

"I need to speak with Madame Maxine, as quickly as possible," Kate confessed. "I'm sure you know that high-class women are being kidnapped. Some of them are some of my closest friends, and I think I'm on the kidnappers' hit list. I was hoping that Madame Maxine would know something about what's going on because, as you know, many secrets are revealed in a brothel. Also, Kloppman recommended that I come here for the smoked salmon…"

"Did I hear someone say Kloppman?" a woman asked from the top of the staircase, and Kate almost jumped off of the couch.

"I'll go talk to the cook now," Charlotte whispered, and in a wink, she started to head towards the kitchen.

Madame Maxine was an incredibly imposing figure in the flesh. Kate placed her age at around mid-50s, with curly dark red hair done up in a complicated bun. Her dress was dark purple, and clearly meant to show off her breasts and her hourglass figure. Even though she was dressed like one of her prostitutes, she radiated power and confidence. Shamefully, Kate almost wished that she could do the same.

"I did," Kate replied hesitantly.

"He's a dear friend of mine," Maxine almost simpered. "We had some good times together a while back. He was so funny and charming," she sighed, almost reverently. "We still keep in touch to this day, but I haven't actually seen him in years! How is he, dear?"

"He-he's fine," Kate replied. "He's running the lodging house, and he's doing an excellent job."

"That's good to hear. Feel free to tell him that he's free to come by after he retires. I'll leave my schedule open for him."

"That…sounds wonderful!" Kate replied.

"I trust you're not looking for work? You seem too high-class for that. Did you want one of my girls? I know, such a taboo thing to ask, but I've seen clients like that before: wealthy women who want to try something new, cross new boundaries and all that. If you were going to do that, I'd recommend Alexandra; she always gets excited when female clients arrive…"

"I…I'm not looking for those kinds of services," Kate shifted uncomfortably in her chair. No one had ever talked about sexuality with her so frankly before, and if she was being honest, she knew next to nothing about it. She understood that it was based on desire for someone, usually of the opposite sex, but she had never desired to do anything to anyone. She wondered if she ever would.

"Then why are you here, darling?" Maxine asked.

"Well," Kate muttered, "Kloppman recommended your smoked salmon with cream cheese on toast."

Maxine laughed, a loud hearty laugh that only gave Kate chills instead of making her want to join in.

"Come now, dearie, you don't just come to a brothel for _breakfast_. If you're not here for sex, then why are you here?"

"I need information," Kate blurted out as Charlotte returned with her food, and quickly scampered off to talk with her friends. It looked delicious; the toast was golden brown, and the cream cheese was starting to melt into the bread. All of it was topped with what was clearly recently smoked salmon. None of it looked cheap. Kate's mouth started to water.

"On what?" Maxine asked as Kate took a large bite of her first piece of toast. The cream cheese was perfectly smooth and flavorful, and it complemented the smokiness of the salmon incredibly well. The toast added extra crunch to the meal. When Kate finished her breakfast and returned from gourmet heaven, she explained her situation to the older woman.

"I see," Maxine said after Kate finished, "Well, dear, I might have an answer to where your friends are, but it's a long shot."

"I'll take any shot at this point," Kate replied seriously.

"There's a new brothel in Brooklyn that's become incredibly popular in recent weeks. It's called the Golden Cat. Some of my girls do reconnaissance missions for me to check on our competition, and the ones that just got back from the Golden Cat two days ago were displeased to discover that a large portion of our wealthier donors are dropping their coins, and their pants, there. We don't know why it's become so popular; from what we've heard from our clients who've been there in the past, their whores don't know how to turn a trick any more than I know how to use a hammer."

Kate's eyes lit up with recognition. "There were golden cats left on the girls' beds!" she exclaimed. "My friends might be in there."

"Dear, I doubt it; as I said, the Golden Cat is a shitty brothel. Also, no half-decent criminal is just going to leave such a blatant clue on the victim's bed where police can just skip into a room and find it!"

"That's true," Kate mused, "but regardless, that brothel is somehow involved with my friends. Do you know where it is?"

"Indeed I do, but be careful, dear. You won't want to be walking into that neighborhood alone and lost, like you surely were in mine. You're lucky that Charlotte found you."

"I know," Kate replied sincerely, "and if there's anything I can do to help…"

"Love," Maxine grinned, "I don't need your charity. All I would want you to do for me, however, is send Kloppie my regards and this," She pulled out a white handkerchief and kissed it. After she had stained the cloth, she passed it to Kate, who carefully folded it and hid it in her neckline.

"Holding things in your brassiere," Maxine grinned. "We'll make a whore out of you yet, dear. Charlotte," she called, and the blonde girl scampered to her mistress's side, "take this girl home."

"Of course, Madame," Charlotte nodded. "Come along, Kate, we must be going."

"Hang on," Kate said, "Madame, you said something about an address. Can you…?"

"Oh dearie, even though I hate other brothels, I never just give people their information willy-nilly. For all I know, you're working with the police to root us out! Now, I know you're not, but I must be cautious. I'll send a boy in a couple of days who can take you to the Cat, but you'll need to tell me where you are currently residing."

"You may have already guessed this, but I live with the newsboys on 212 Duane Street, in the room in the attic." When she mentioned her room, Kate saw Madame Maxine's face turn wistful.

"I remember that room," she smiled. Kate didn't really want to know what she remembered doing in there with…She didn't want to finish that thought. "As it so happens, I know someone who knows someone who owes him a favor, and this young man undoubtedly knows how to get from Duane Street to the Cat. I'll make sure that my contact knows to send him over to you."

"Thank you so much!" Kate exclaimed joyfully. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help you?"

"No, dear," Maxine grinned, "I'm perfectly capable of running this business myself. I wish you the best of luck in your search!"

"Thank you!" Kate called as Charlotte led her out of the brothel. Even though she knew that Maxine had said no charity, Kate knew that she would try to find some way to pay the older woman back for her kindness.

"So, Charlotte," Kate asked as a thought jumped to her mind. Perhaps it was because she had just been inside a brothel, but she was feeling a little mischievous. No, she thought, this is idle curiosity. "Who is the Higgins boy? I don't know any last names, and I was just wondering…"

"Who my first man was?" Charlotte grinned mischievously, and Kate blushed with embarrassment. "No need to be embarrassed!" Charlotte exclaimed, playfully swatting her new friend on the arm. "It's perfectly normal for people to be interested in who's slept with whom. You're just lucky that I'm willing to share."

"All right," Kate grinned, starting to let her guard down, "who was it?"

"Well, he couldn't have been sweeter to me. We were both fourteen when we first did it, so that was about three years ago."

"So you're my age then!" Kate interjected. "How delightful to have a new friend close in age."

"Indeed," Charlotte smiled back, and then continued on with her tale. "Anyway, his name was…" She giggled, "I can't, it's too funny! Such a big name for such a little man. But what a man he was, even back then."

"What was his name?" The suspense was starting to eat at Kate like a hungry caterpillar on a leaf.

"His name was…hee hee…Anthony!" Charlotte exclaimed, trying not to burst into peals of laughter. "He had a bit of a rough exterior, but trust me dear, any good man, when he jumps into bed with you, sheds that façade and shows you his true colors. And he did just that. Even though we were both clumsy and inexperienced, that was one of the best experiences of my life. Those Italians…" she reminisced, "they know what they're doing in the sack. All of my favorite clients have been Italian, in fact."

"But what was his newsie name? I don't know anyone named Anthony Higgins!" Kate protested. "And wait, Higgins is an Irish name, but you said he was Italian?"

Charlotte only smiled. "I've told you everything I know," she smiled sweetly, "and in case you're wondering, I've moved on from him. But he was my first love, and I'll never forget that."

"I don't think I've ever been in love," Kate stated sadly, "but you make it sound wonderful."

"That's because it is," Charlotte smiled.

"How will I know when I've found it?"

"Trust me, you'll know."

"Thank you, Charlotte," Kate smiled.

"Anything for a friend!" Charlotte grinned. "Now, this is Duane Street. If you follow the house numbers, you'll get to 212. Think you can take it from here?"

"Yes," Kate replied, "I think I can."

"Well then, have a lovely day, and be sure to come by Maxine's to chat! I'd love to see you again."

"I hope to come back and see you, too!" Kate replied. "I'll have to tell you what happens with my search!"

"I can't wait to find out!" Charlotte called as she headed back towards the Deep South of Manhattan. As soon as she vanished, Kate started heading home, thinking over the mystery of who Anthony Higgins was. If he was able to make a prostitute fall in love with him, who knew what kinds of questions he might be able to help her answer?


End file.
